In Clermont-Ferrand, behind a series of "narcohomicides", the mutations of drug trafficking

"But isn't hash and weed the same thing?" Jalil (names have been changed) is 13 years old, and doesn't seem to know the difference between the two main products sold at the "dealing" point for which he is currently a "chouffe" (lookout). Ayoub, for his part, would prefer to be somewhere other than here, at the "oven," still scarred by his encounter with a machete. A blow to the head, one to the arm. A scar about ten centimeters long, in the shape of a comma around his elbow, tells of the violence of this raid "to scare," carried out by competitors. Not really what he hoped for when he crossed the Mediterranean at 16. Inès, just an adult, remains faithful to his post, and is not afraid of dying there, neither from a volley of bullets nor from exhaustion. He has just completed three shifts, thirty-six hours of serving customers and dodging the police, with the hope of enjoying the good life and "lots of pussy." Heavy-eyed, greasy hair, and worn-out clothes, he doesn't see any other option open to him—without papers and subject to an order to leave French territory, he can't work legally.

Drug trafficking is transforming in several neighborhoods of Clermont-Ferrand. Sheltered by the surrounding hills, the Auvergne capital believed itself to be spared the violence of drug trafficking. This illusion has been dispelled over the past year. Between November 2024 and August of this year, police encountered four deaths linked to drug trafficking.

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